Need You Now
by fleetofships1
Summary: Before she knew it, she was dialling Laurie. She should stop now, before she did anything she would regret – but frankly it was a quarter after one, Jo was a little (a lot) drunk and she was too exhausted to stop herself in any way other than maybe throwing the phone at the wall, and Mother probably wouldn't like that. Modern-day AU set just after Beth's death, based off the song.


**Disclaimer: Louisa May Alcott is the true genius. I should've been filling out enrolment forms for uni but when 'genius burns' one must answer the call!**

Beth was dead.

It shouldn't hurt so much. She'd expected as much. They all had.

There was no hope after the cancer relapsed for a third time, but she'd hoped anyway. Stupid, really.

She sat alone now, in Beth's bedroom, and shakily raised her fifth? sixth? shot –she'd lost count– to her lips, relishing the burn as it slid down her throat. Her eyes were fixed on the photo of Beth on the floor, blurred by the vale of tears, and the glass rolled from her fingers to crash into a million pieces, indistinguishable from the shattered shards of the photo frame. Like her, broken.

Her fingers slid over to her phone and before she knew it she was dialling Laurie. Some corner of her foggy mind whispered that perhaps it was a bad idea, she'd promised herself she wouldn't call, that she should stop now before she did anything she would regret – but frankly it was a quarter after one, Jo was a little (a lot) drunk and she was too exhausted to stop herself in any way other than maybe throwing the phone at the wall, and Mother probably wouldn't like that. Jo broke enough things by accident already, she didn't need to add deliberately destroying property (expensive property, she might add) to the count.

"Hello?" Laurie yawned, and suddenly Jo was acutely aware that she must've woken him up – that it was probably early morning in Germany and she'd just thoughtlessly shortened his sleep.

"I – I'm sorry, Teddy, I don't know what came over me, I must've lost all self-control, I – I'm sorry I'll just–" she babbled and squeezed her eyes shut in frustration as the nickname slipped out.

" –Jo?!" came the incredulous voice, suddenly wide awake, "–no wait, Jo, don't go, please – what's wrong?"

"It's Beth. She – She's dead. She di- passed this morning. It was quick, thank God, but – but I wasn't ready, she just – one moment she was there, you know, looking up at us and – and smiling! and her head was in Mother's lap, and – and then she just closed her eyes and she was gone! Just like that! And I–" Jo's voice broke with a sob.

Laurie closed his eyes in anguish. It had been so long since he'd heard from Jo – 11 months, 2 weeks and 5 days, to be exact – since he'd proposed and been rejected; not a text, not a word in the meantime and now this. The last thing he'd expected this morning was to hear his ex-girlfriend's voice, a week or so after he'd finally started getting to know her youngest sister better (her only younger sister now, his mind whispered) – and yet he'd be lying if he said Jo never crossed his mind. Every time he saw something new in France, in Austria, in Germany, he'd be reminded of her, would turn to point it out, only to be reminded that she wasn't with him, that she hadn't been ready to make the move with him – and yet what choice had he had? The company's expansion had required it and he'd thought – he'd _thought_ it would be brilliant timing for them, but apparently not.

And Beth – gentle, kind Beth, the one who'd first persuaded Jo to even give Laurie a chance – Beth was dead. His heart ached, for both himself and Jo – Beth had always been Jo's closest sister and confidante.

"Geez Jo, I – I'm so, so sorry. I–"

The thought suddenly crossed his mind that Amy might not even know.

"Does Amy know?"

Jo's voice was very small and just a little ashamed, "I– no, she doesn't, I– I called you first, I don't know what came over me, I just – oh God, I'm so sorry – I was just – I mean I _am_ drunk and I just thought – I just – I need you now and – I – I'm going to go call Amy now, how could I have been so – so selfish?"

Jo hiccupped and ended the call, breaking down in tears. What was wrong with her? She hadn't even told her _sister_ that their other sister was dead and she – she'd what? Called her ex-boyfriend, who had the last time she'd seen him been down on one knee, eyes gazing up at her with hope – a hope that she'd destroyed.

She shook herself out of the stupor and dialled Amy's number, each ring as loud as the thumping of her heart.

Laurie massaged his temples to ease the onset of a migraine. He had two meetings today – two meetings and a dinner… but Jo needed him. She _needed_ him; she'd never said so before – sure, it was implied, and he knew she'd loved him, but this – _this_ was different. He called his personal assistant, phone gripped tightly between shoulder and ear as he quickly tossed some presentable clothes into the open briefcase on the bed.

"James? Yeah, sorry, look I know it's early. I need you to book me the next flight to Massachusetts. Cancel all my appointments today. I know, I KNOW it's important but something's come up. What? No, I'm fine – it – it's a family emergency. Yes, okay – thanks man, bye."

Laurie let out a large exhale as he climbed into a passing cab. This – and the plane – would bring him back to the one place he never thought he'd willingly return to again, not for many years at least– would take him back to Jo.


End file.
